


Indulged EXS

by Alchemica



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Under Night In-Birth (Video Game)
Genre: Seth had a stroke possibly, The more things change the more they stay the same, the amount of bullshit that Taylor can inflict is frightening and amazing, the lion the witch and the audacity of this bitch named Emma, there's nothing like a bit of morning derailment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:35:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alchemica/pseuds/Alchemica
Summary: A Young Girl wakes up in a hospital and ponders just what heroes are made of. As trials get longer and harder, so must she, unless a Void inside consumes her.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	Indulged EXS

Clause 1.1:

**She denies. A power that she holds a claim to. A lie she tells herself to sleep at night knowing there are consequences. She fears for the truth yet knows the only way out is through it.**

Taylor opened her eyes slowly as she stared at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room with confusion and curiosity. Blinking wildly to get the blurriness out of her eyes, she stood up and gazed around, trying to discern the surroundings as some kind of dream or something. Her arms felt like they had completely lost function; like they were placed in stasis under warm water. Flexing her hands, she felt the lethargy disappear almost entirely and pushed the weirdness onto muscular atrophy, or whatever degraded muscles.

Turning her aching sore neck, she saw some standard hospital equipment nearby and sobered up near instantly while regaining feeling in her whole body. She was in a hospital, and somehow, she survived that whole ordeal with the Locker of Death.

The memories returned fragmented to her, willing themselves as little ghosts of dust clouds floating around in malevolence. Her forehead throbbed with pain, as well as the back of her right hand, but somehow the latter felt different.

_The school staring her down as she opened the door, Someone's rough, calloused hands pushing her in, the door shutting behind her as a mark right above her eye formed from hitting the hook inside quite hard. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. BANG BANG BANG BANG_ **_BANGBANGBANGBANGLOCKERDOORSHUTCUTSSMELLBILERISINGPAINHURTSHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEPLEASESOMEONE_ **

She shut her eyes in pain before trying to still her racing heartbeat from going overboard and causing a scene. Pulling up the resolve, Taylor knew what she had to do, masked by her growing fear and indecisions.

"Fuck." She whispered to herself in panic, as she pulled out every single needle stuck inside her as carefully as possible to not cause an alarm to go off. Once they had all been removed, she swiveled over to the clear spot on her left, popping off the bed and landing on wobbly feet. The tone deaf beep blaring nearby felt like something out of that horror Aleph movie, something about no laws.

Stretching her arms, she felt lighter than before; it was as if the muscle atrophy… thing that was supposed to happen was replaced by a feeling of complete… fullness, she supposed could fit what she wanted to convey. Maybe even contentment or not hollow. 

The door of the room was opened briskly and there were people lining up to enter, some nurses, some others. Turning, Taylor glazed over the six new people in the room as they all stared in complete shock over what could be considered a modern miracle.

* * *

The room felt stuffy as her father and the hospital staff, which just so happened to be the day that Panacea came in, crowded her with questions. Taylor tuned them all out, and stared her father down, who was hugging her quite intensely with tears streaming down his face. The whole thing was a complete mess to look at; even the hospital staff knew when the whole shebang got them essentially no progress in knowing what happened, leaving the two of them alone to comfort each other in peace.

Danny eventually stopped blubbering and focused his teary-eyed gaze onto Taylor. Somehow, there was a slight tone in anger hidden deep inside, though how much was mixed in with worry she didn't know.

"I know you're a cape, Taylor." Dad started off the conversation with, blowing a hole through whatever she had been thinking. "The way that Panacea couldn't help you and treated you as completely invisible to her made it frustrating to see."

Huh? The best healer in Brockton couldn't see Taylor?

"Wha- huh? I'm apparently invisible to Panacea? Is that my power? But then…" Taylor whispered, looking down to her hands as she went and stood back off of the bed to spite the medical workers and prove she was fine. "No, that isn't the full picture. It has to be something else…"

"It wasn't that she couldn't see you, Little Owl, only that her powers couldn't work on what she called a complete abnormality." He scoffed as he sniffled for the last time. "I think she expressed it as 'literally you should not exist because there is nothing there; no heart, no bones, no skin. Just a lack of something visible.' Pretty sure the moment she let go was when she had her first headache that she couldn't remove." Taylor snapped back to him with something horrific on her face. It made more sense and felt more complete, but that didn't fully feel the same as what she had been feeling deep inside her carved, gaping soul.

"Nothing, hollow, unremovable headache… Negated." Something clicked, and she turned towards the door. Looking at the Hero, she felt that feeling well inside as the back of her right hand ached and branded a pattern that looked like the markings of an ancient curse. She covered that marking and burning feeling with her other hand as she focused directly on the Hero in front of her.

With American paraphernalia wrapped over her face and on her military equipment, Miss Militia arrived with the grace and proper dignity of a hero, and right behind her was Panacea of New Wave looking tired, pissed and ready to either explode or pass out.

"Taylor Hebert, We wanted to talk to you and your guardian. Are they nearby?" Miss Militia asked with a soft voice that oozed kindness and gentleness. Taylor pointed behind her to her father, staring at the two with an unreadable emotion. It was almost as if there was a connection between the two that she didn't know about, judging by the way that her dad changed his posture and tried to make himself presentable.

_Ask later._ Taylor had thought that in the most urgent manner possible. Regardless of that, Miss Militia nodded to her and smiled as she pulled three chairs from nearby. They sat down carefully, and Taylor gulped as if she had a dry throat. Something in that smile turned malevolent and almost predatory; it was almost as if it was Emma in front of her, poised to attack at any moment.

"We would like a recount from what happened a month ago on January 3rd, 2011 at your school, Winslow High. Our investigation didn't turn up with much, but from what we do have, it is clear that anything that resulted from it was completely accidental and there will be no charges placed on your family." Miss Militia dropped the bombshell on everyone in the room.

She shattered under the realization that it had been a full month in her small coma. Her mouth opened, closed, opened back up and started forming the words silently until her brain caught up and she shook her head clear of the thoughts.

"I didn't hurt anybody, did I?" She whispered, before Panacea looked directly into her eyes with an intensity that made her hand burn. She gripped it with force before shifting her hand slightly.

"Only minor bruises, but nothing that some time couldn't heal on its own." If there was any remaining sense of hope still unshattered, it broke and became glass dust. "That aside, it was only minor property damage that the school can't pursue you with, due to the failures of the previous principal." That made Taylor focus. She pulled a breath in and held it in her box breathing method that steeled her. Her hand moved off of the markings, and Taylor still felt the heat rising off of it.

"You truly want the story, huh." For the first time, her father and Panacea became interested in her words as the pattern on her hand grew and covered the entirety of the top half of her right hand. Danny in particular was only paying attention for what she believed was to extract vengeance on who did this, teary eyes gone and replaced with something akin to unfiltered, unbridled rage.

"It started when I entered Winslow…"

* * *

"...That's when we get into the current year, which marks the total day count to 389. Now, this year they upped their ante." Looking over at Miss Militia and her father, Taylor recognized the emotions that conflicted over their face: shock, disgust and rage to name a few. "That wasn't an understatement. It literally ramped up. At best it was making me look like an idiot to everyone and at worst it made my grades go down hard." Taylor felt the emotions rise from within and stuffed them into their own flasks. "Mainly it was a physical thing to deal with. Getting pushed around, having my stuff being broken and assignments credited as theirs. Then came the one person I thought was going to stand up for me, and joined my harassers into bullying me." Her voice took a darker tone as Taylor clasped her hands together.

"What were their names." Panacea finally gritted out, most likely for the extra workload that failed to work. Taylor stared at her and realized that they didn't know who did this to her. She never mentioned their names as if she had been shielding them. "Taylor, you never once mentioned their names, only referring to them as the Trio. What. Were. Their. Names."

"There were three people in the Trio that gave me hell, one of which I'm at least 67% confident was only following to avoid the consequences." Taylor looked directly into Miss Militia's eyes with red irises and a dark look. "Sophia Hess." A small movement from the Hero. "The 67%, Madison Clements, and you're going to love this one dad," She had continued with an oddly villainous tone, shifting her gaze to stare at her Father, "Emma Barnes."

There was a pause as if time itself had stopped, then Danny let out a laugh that sounded maniacal and ready to kill someone should they move. It got to the point that even Miss Militia gave him a disapproving glare. He calmed down slightly, although it was still so funny that he chuckled a lot more.

"Well, that about wraps up the interrogation bit up, seeing as most of the events coincide with what happened from the PRT report, minus a few glaring ones that need to be updated, however, the PRT is still unsure about how your blood was found on the school roof."

Wait, school roof? She thought back to the--- **_HELPPLEASE---_ ** remainder of the incident that happened, only to come up with nothing. It didn't sit right with her as she felt her hand burn in pain, gripping it tighter.

"I-- I don't recall, mph, the school roof or what happened after, damn it…" a handle popped out of the markings, receding slightly as Taylor grabbed it and pulled out the sword with much pain as she screamed. Miss Militia looked at Taylor with a lot of concern before getting out of the chair and trying to take the sword away from Taylor's hands. The minute that she touched it, the sword exploded with electricity and enough force pulsed out that it launched Miss Militia through the closed door, breaking it down. She looked down to the mark on her hand, which remained a perfect, unilateral circle.

"I- What's happening?! What is this sword, and why did it come out of my hand?!" She screamed, before realizing that her very core seeped from the sword itself. A trance seeped over herself, calming down enough to stare down the blade with "I am this sword; I am the Negator. With it I become truth." Taylor whispered so low that it was almost a thought to those around her.

Snapping out of the trance, she held the sword in a reverse grip, looking over it entirely. It was a longsword that didn't have the grip required for two hands, with a guard that looked like pinsirs. The handle was wrapped in some red fabric that felt like silk cloth but wasn't. The most interesting part, however, was the coloration of the blade as well as the blade itself. The blade itself was a black, deep black, while the edge of it had a coloration of some sort of glowing dark yellow that felt like it was optimistically malevolent. The blade took on an hourglass-ish state, where half from the guard was thinner than the rest of the blade width-wise, and returned to normal size as it travelled to the tip.

Maybe she needed a sheathe to hide this thing from people, like a guitar case.

She chuckled inwardly before staring back at wide-eyed people.

"I guess I figured out that power thing you guys were talking about?" She half-heartedly quipped, nervousness kicking in that moment as the fear dissipate.

* * *

There was only quiet on the road trip back home. Daniel and Taylor got the all ok from the doctors, and left as the hospital was trying to get new medical information.

At least, that's what Taylor gathered. Staring at the sword beside her, it truly dawned on her how big it was. Sitting down now, she had to lay it horizontally or else it would have poked another hole in the car. 

She felt guilty about that.

Her thoughts were scrambled as she arrived back home and entered the front door only to be led by her father towards the basement of the house. Something warned her that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty.

The moment that the two reached the basement with the sword, her father turned, locked the door and broke the silence.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me this shit? I could have helped you." He asked very passive-aggressively. Taylor looked at him with apathy.

"When will we have a normal conversation that isn't limited to holidays, where we're forced to put on a mask?" She responded and dug her sword into the floor. "When were you going to pick yourself up after mom's death? In a week? Maybe two months?" The emotions rose, and she sighed to cool down. Her father wanted to say something, but she held her hand up to stop him. "Don't. You'll only make excuses. We stopped knowing what was happening the moment that _it_ happened. We never got back." Taylor got quieter on the last few words, and the emotions bottled up were starting to shatter in their encasings. "So forgive me if for once I'd like you to smile again at the cost of myself."

"You're still medicated, aren't you? Because by god that is the worst thing that I could hear." Her father began with rage ebbing through. "Are you an idiot, or do you have a problem with using your brains? If you had died, I would have lost everything that mattered to me. If you had not woken up, I wouldn't have been able to keep you alive longer than necessary. You're everything to me, so why didn't you tell me?" That blow felt worse than the pain of--- where did her sword go? Did it vanish back into her hand?

_Pay attention, Taylor. He needs an answer._

"Dad. I've tried every avenue possible when it comes to them. They know everything, from when the teachers are coming to what to say to make you an outcast. I talked to teachers, who've even seen them blatantly cheating and yet they get off scot free." Taylor continued, the cracks becoming larger. "I even went to the principal who at the time completely felt it was necessary to not even care enough even when I brought evidence that wasn't a pointed finger. What do you think I could do? Sue the school and lose everything? Lose a home which has more memories than I remember? Lose my dad to even more grief?!" They broke free. "NO! I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS HAPPENING, AND NOW I HAVE THE CHANCE TO CHANGE THIS CITY! MAKE IT BETTER! STOP PEOPLE LIKE HESS FROM MAKING MONSTERS FROM ORDINARY PEOPLE!" Taylor screamed with fury that she hadn't realized that she kept underneath. Her dad stared at her with shock and something more, which made Taylor's heart soar, before turning it into the legend of Icarus and having it crash down as his face became scowled with pride and anger.

"Fine. Fine! But you're going to the Wards, and we're getting you a transfer to Arcadia to get you away from the shittiest place in Brockton. No negotiation, no further questions." Danny grumbled out in frustration, before opening the basement door and leaving. Taylor looked at the back of her hand with a sour expression, and the markings had indeed returned albeit it covered less space.

"That would be fine, if the only problem is that they would stop the minute I left." She sighed as she headed back upstairs to get some water.

Some day this turned out to be.

* * *

She opened the door to her room and stared down her bed with envy; all that she wanted to do was sit down and drown in eternal sleep, but that would mean that her ideals would be betrayed. With a sigh and scowl, she looked at what she had in her wardrobe for a costume, and found something that looked dusty: a japanese styled maid outfit that reminded her of the asian cafes not aligned with Lung.

“Wasn’t one of the stories mom told me that she worked in a Japanese cafe before Lung claimed everything Japanese?” She wondered curiously, thinking back to the moments that she still remembered with her mom. A smile drifted over her face in nostalgia before it faded, ruined by the memories of the most recent year and the locker.

"I'll change this city. I have to or it will never end."

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have gone overboard trying to write this. Anyways, welcome to a story, I guess. Try not to dictate what should go on, because I have plans for the first 5 arcs.


End file.
